John Foley

I’ve read that Leonardo DiCaprio might play Travis McGee in a film of the same title directed by Oliver Stone, based on John D. MacDonald’s The Deep Blue Goodbye. While Stone is a good choice as director, I can’t see Leo playing the most iconic character in mystery fiction. Don’t get me wrong — I think he’s an excellent actor. But McGee? Please, no. He’s too short, not athletic enough, doesn’t look anything like the descriptions of McGee and lacks the charismatic presence necessary to carry the role. Tom Selleck was the best McGee — I can’t decide if his Magnum P.I. character was a ripoff of the MacDonald creation or if he was paying homage. Anyway, if the film gets made, I hope Stone casts an actor more suited to the role…The prolific MacDonald wrote 21 Travis McGee mysteries (and something like 70 novels in all); the first I read was Free Fall in Crimson, which I just re-read. And I remain impressed. MacDonald’s dialogue, settings, characterizations and plot are all first rate, and if you get all that right, you have a helluva fine novel. I found the McGee novels addictive and read all 21 books. Ironically, I thought The Green Ripper, which won the National Book Award, was one of the weakest books in the series; maybe it was a career award, which MacDonald certainly deserved…He was an environmentalist before anyone knew what that was, and wrote so many brilliant passages and insightful lines he belongs in the same league as Mark Twain…Meyer’s monologue on senseless violence in The Dreadful Lemon Sky should be read by every teen in America, and the opening line of Darker than Amber should be studied by every writer looking to compose compelling hooks: “We were about to give up and call it a night when somebody dropped the girl off the bridge.”

My son Sean Michael is a joy — most of the time. Lately he’s been giving himself a clap of encouragement each time he tries to hoist himself onto the couch, and another for good measure when he doesn’t quite make it. He’s also standing with his hands clasped behind his back, like a little scholar, when deciding what to do next. And he loves books. I never thought I’d say he loves books too much, but to be honest, after he brings me the 10th book in an hour, I sometimes wish he’d entertain himself in another manner. I think he senses this, and that’s his cue to become what my wife Jules aptly calls the “devil in a diaper.” She coined the phrase after Sean Michael ran from her as she was trying to put his pajamas on. He ran to a standing lamp and started shaking it back and forth, nearly toppling it, and she said, “You little devil in a diaper!” In such moods he’ll also pull our hair, bite our arms, run into the litter box, try to hurl himself off the sofa and throw his sippy cup across the room while laughing madly. Whatever he’s doing, I feel very lucky to be his father, even if I’m regularly mistaken for his grandfather. Such is life.

This is a blog from my brother, Mike, who is currently sailing the Caribbean.

4/23/10 Depart Bahia Del Sol, El Salvador
5/12/10 Arrive Colon, Panama
Distance: 1020 Miles
Weed Man
My brother John, a published author and English teacher, is my “go-to” guy when I need to buy a new stack of excellent literature. After hearing that I was suffering through Hemingway’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” he gave me a list of books that would be a bit lighter and certainly more enjoyable. One of the books was about a Bahamian kid who discovers a bale of weed while jogging on the beach. I found the subsequent adventure with its colorful Bahamian characters to be highly entertaining. While waiting in the endless customs/immigration line in El Salvador, I had the thought to take out my book. As I was reading, I started having this uneasy feeling that I was garnering the attention of people around me. In fact, it seemed like people in line were moving away from me. Hmmm? How odd.

As I kept reading, I couldn’t quite shake the uneasy feeling that something was out of place. As beads of sweat began to stream down my face, it occurred to me that I was reading a book titled, “Weed Man” while surrounded by well-armed and humorless, El Salvadorian border patrol officials and their pet German Shepherds. With a deep gulp, I closed my neon green book with pictures of leaves on the cover and placed it gently back into my bag. After a five minute eternity, I cleared the check point without any questions about my unfortunate choice of literature.

Rainy Season???
After being away from Shannon for three weeks, it was a pleasure to be back on board with my crew: Ron, Greg and Sarah. We departed El Salvador for Costa Rica under partly cloudy skies. Our fellow cruisers warned us that “Rainy Season” had come early and we may encounter a little weather. The “Rainy Season” sounds so benign that it would lead one to believe that an afternoon shower might be possible from time to time…wrong! The first night out was uneventful, but ominous just the same. With every mile south, the humidity seemed to be building. Something had to break.

The following two nights were nothing short of terrifying. As captain, I drew on my logic to explain to the crew that boats are rarely hit by lightning and that it’s almost unheard of that anyone has ever been injured as a result. Unfortunately, as I was explaining this fact, the highly charged sky behind me was betraying my words with constant flashes and crackling sounds.

At first, we tried to evade the huge black blobs that appeared on the radar, but to no avail. These squalls move at upwards of 50 mph while we putt along at 6 mph. By our second night of lightning, my crew had become somewhat hardened and we began to notice a pattern: stifling humidity and thunderhead plumes build during day, electricity in the air by dusk, followed by almost constant lightning, a torrential downpour, and finally, peace a few hours before daybreak.

It was on the night before we made landfall in Costa Rica that I will never forget. Around 3AM, Greg and I were on watch and feeling optimistic that we had made it through the worst of the lightning while enjoying the cool rain when we were momentarily blinded by a strike half a mile off our starboard beam. What I will remember most is the ear-shattering sizzle, “kkkkkkkkkkkkrrrrrraaaacccckkkkkBOOOOM!” Afterwards, we sat in silence for a time – there’s just not that much to say. As we sat there in the darkness with buckets of water falling on our heads, it occurred to me that what was terror the first night was now familiar and awesome. I’m still trying to understand why I felt like laughing in that moment. Was it the ions in the atmosphere? The fact that I was still alive? The self-evident fact that I am an inconsequential speck relative to the creation? The fact that I was sitting comfortably in a torrential downpour sixty miles from shore? All of the above? I don’t know. I just know I felt happy and grateful.

After an endless night of lightning, the hearty crew (Ron, Sarah, and Greg) celebrate daybreak over coffee!

After three days at sea, we arrived in a Jaco, Costa Rica at Los Suenos, a five star resort and marina. Going from the third world poverty of El Salvador to a place that has all the trappings of American wealth 2500 miles from San Diego was truly a shock to us all. Of course, it didn’t take long for us to make the adjustment and take advantage of all the amenities – what a treat!